The Lord of Time
by PuzzlePeace
Summary: When Luke Castellan managed to break free from his control, the Titan Lord did everything in his power to preserve himself. He would not spend the next millennia trying to reform his body. He's resided in his new host for years, festering on his negative emotions, waiting for the day he could break out. The pieces are starting to fall together. Kronos will rise.


**So its been a while since I've written anything for Percy Jackson. I kinda just got back into the series after picking up my old books, so this is just want kinda came out of it. So this story is assuming Trials of Apollo never happened. Hope somebody's reading this, enjoy :)**

Derek tore through the dark forest as he tried to hastily wrap the wound on his forearm with his jacket. He hadn't expected this quest to go so sideways so fast. Jared and Priscilla had all scattered in different directions, meaning the shooter could've been after any one of them. Although he was probably one of the most athletic members of his cohort, he was already beginning to lose his breath.

He couldn't see a damn thing through the darkness and the rain was masking any other noises around him. Hopefully that meant his pursuer was having a hard time finding him as well. With a clumsy slide he hid underneath the exposed roots of a tree. He finished his makeshift bandage and unsheathed his imperial gold gladius. Even though his left arm was wounded he would still be able to fight properly with his other hand.

A tiny scratching noise behind him made him swing wildly, almost clipping the ash gray owl that had been the source of the noise. It hopped a couple steps away and glared at him with ferocity. Its eyes seemed too familiar. Derek was sure he had seen those seething gray eyes before…

In an instant his leg shot up with pain, a steel tipped arrow anchoring him to the roots of the tree. With a slice of his gladius he split the shaft, easing his calf out of the arrow. His sword was shaking and he realized that his whole body was shaking. This kind of fear had never been in his body. Not when he was about to storm Camp Half-Blood. Not even when he had been fighting his way up Mount Othrys.

The owl finally flew off, leaving Derek all alone. Then suddenly his shooter came, coming from who knows where. The man was dressed in beige cargo pants and an open maroon zip-up hoodie that looked like it had been stretched too far vertically. His hood made his face even darker and harder to make out. A bow and quiver were secured on his back, along with what looked like a katana.

The hooded figure let out a chilling whisper. "Derek Shay Parker."

Derek felt his stomach freak out. There were only a few people he told his full name to. The nameless figure drew his katana in a swift motion, grasping it with both of his gloved hands. It was probably one of the most beautiful swords Derek had seen in his life. The silver blade seemed to glow in the dark chilly night.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" he demanded.

The hooded figure said nothing, and instead lunged at him with his sword. Derek hastily blocked the attack, but immediately blocked a flurry of more slices from his attacker. It was obvious that he was incredibly proficient at his swordplay, and even more effective against him due to his unfamiliar style.

He tried for a stab to the chest but the man easily dodged it, giving him a quick stomp on the wound on his calf. Derek howled with pain as he was easily disarmed by the man. A slice to his other leg forced him to crumple to the ground. His pants were quickly turning into a dark red, the warm blood seeping into the forest floor. He crawled so that his back was to the huge tree roots and faced his hunter.

"Please. My friends…"

The hooded head tilted in an almost quizzical stance. "You should be more worried about me and not your friends."

The hood came off and Derek's heart nearly stopped. He knew this person. It was former 1st cohort member, James Lee. "We killed you! There's no way you survived!"

James smiled as he sheathed his sword and pulled out a bronze dagger. The dagger gave off a faint glow, enough to show the cruel, yet regal features of the man. Then Derek noticed that James had both of his arms. "How do you have your arm? We…"

"I know what you did Derek. Like I said, don't worry about that right now."

Derek gulped and slowly inched his hand near the dagger stowed away on his leg. If he could catch him off guard…

"It's been a pretty long time Derek, hasn't it?" James said as he twirled the dagger in his hand, "It's been about three years, and I've been itching for this moment."

"You won't change a thing when you get back to Camp Jupiter." Derek needed to try and distract James from his movements. "Reyna knows you're a traitor, and she'll have you killed-"

"Don't act like an idiot right before you die," James scoffed. Though to Derek he did look a bit nervous, "Reyna's probably the only person who ever doubted you guys. When I show back up I know for sure that she's going to at least let me talk to her."

Anger bubbled from Derek's chest, the emotion escaping out through his words. "You won't gain anything! You're a traitor and no one will ever believe you! You're going to die."

And as James scoffed again, he threw his dagger straight for his head. It was a perfect throw. But James caught it with his hand; the blade had torn through his glove, but there he stood, blade in hand, no blood.

James' face glowed with hatred and anger. "Did you really think it'd be that easy?"

His glove fell apart as he threw his dagger back, straight into his hand. Derek tried to scream in pain but was cut off by James' hand that had tightened around his throat. James' hand wasn't covered in skin or even blood. It was a steel like prosthetic that looked flexible enough to appear like a regular hand if it weren't for its metallic look.

Panic erupted in his chest, beating to the rhythm of his quickening heartbeat. He was going to die. He was going to DIE. James' voice seemed to tremble as he whispered in Derek's ear. "This is for Aya."


End file.
